that the earth delights
to feel your bare feet
and the winds long
to play with your hair.
They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold; and I deem them mad because they think my days have a price.
The appearance of things changes according to the emotions; and thus we see magic and beauty in them, while the magic and beauty are really in ourselves.
Trust in dreams, for in them is the hidden gate to eternity
And a woman spoke, saying, "Tell us of Pain."
And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the
Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.” (The Prophet)
Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper.
That we may record our emptiness.
Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
One day you will ask me which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.